


I am a Sinner, You are a Saint

by temporaryistemporary



Series: a chosen family [6]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: I dont know what else to tag this with, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Manipulative Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Protective Sam | Awesamdude, Protective Wilbur Soot, hhhhhhhhHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH, they just want the kids to be safe, this is about the characters not the people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:55:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29785419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/temporaryistemporary/pseuds/temporaryistemporary
Summary: Wilbur and Sam have a chat about Tommy.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Series: a chosen family [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2119869
Comments: 11
Kudos: 102
Collections: Completed stories I've read





	I am a Sinner, You are a Saint

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to DreamerLost on here for the prompt idea! You helped me ton because I could not for the life of me figure out how to start this.

It wasn’t often that Wilbur left the castle alone these days. Now, that’s not to say he stayed cooped up in the walls of what had essentially become his home, no. He had already been dragged out into a far tundra biome to see Snowchester, had been brought to _the_ bench to listen to discs that used to be lost to them, and had been re-introduced to Tommy’s newly refurbished base. So yes, he did leave the castle, he just found he didn’t quite know what to do when he was on his own.

But the castle had been far too quiet, everyone having gone off to do their own thing for the day, and it was driving Wilbur up a wall. So he took a walk.

Strolling around the server, post revival, was strange. There were newer builds that were unfamiliar to him (even though many had been destroyed in Doomsday) and newer people. The sheep hybrid (he tried to recall her name, but his mind was all static, a pretty normal occurrence ever since the melding of memories between him and Ghostbur) seemed particularly nice, waving at him as he passed by her mushroom house. He didn’t really have a destination in mind, but Wilbur was buzzing with energy and couldn’t stand to sit still anymore. He was coming up on Tommy’s base now, not that the teen used it much, the thing looking like it had been hastily repaired. A tall figure stood near the entrance, peering around and then looking down at their communicator.

Wilbur quickly combed through his foggy memory as he approached (today hadn’t been one of his better days, though it wasn’t anywhere near where his mind had been as Ghostbur), having difficulty recalling a name but having a vague recollection of the creeper hybrid. He was about to call out when the other man turned and caught his eye, he couldn’t tell what the other was thinking through the mask but could see his shoulders tensing in surprise. Wilbur’s resurrection had been common knowledge, of course, but he could understand that it still must have been shocking to see him. Alive, anyway.

Coming to a stop near the edge of the property, Wilbur cast the man ( _Sam_ , his mind finally supplied) an easy going smile. He wasn’t sure what his standing with Sam had been before the 16th, couldn’t recall anything terrible, but he'd rather be safe than sorry. And the way he had been in the prison, cold and intimidating, did nothing to settle his nerves. “If you’re looking for Tommy, I’m afraid he’s not around.”

Sam hummed in response, shoulders dropping. “Well, hello to you, too. Do you know where I could find him?”

“What do you want with him?”

The creeper hybrid raised his hands in a peaceful gesture at Wilbur’s defensive tone. “Nothing bad. Tommy wanted me to build something for him but I hadn’t heard back in a few days, so I came to check on him.”

Right. Tommy had mentioned his meeting with Sam, something about wanting to build a hotel. His brother had been in a rush so he hadn’t explained much, but Tommy had looked so damn happy with himself. It reminded Wilbur of when they were younger, and Tommy would come to him with some inane plan for a prank or a build that really only made sense in his childish mind but he seemed so excited that Wilbur couldn’t say no.

“He’ll probably be out until later tonight.” Wilbur finally said, stepping closer to Sam now that he knew the man had no ill intentions. “He went with Tubbo to Snowchester to show Ranboo around.”

Sam hummed and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Well, you wouldn’t happen to know if he’s got my payment yet, would you? And he also mentioned a contract?”

“I’m not sure. How much was the payment?”

“Thirty-two diamonds.”

Wilbur stared at the man in surprise. “Only thirty-two diamonds? For an entire hotel?”

“Yeah,” Sam chuckled. “It’s not my usual price but-” He paused, rolling his shoulders back and Wilbur was once again reminded of his warden persona. “These kids deserve a break, y’know? And I thought Tommy’s idea for a neutral zone is great. So I lowered the cost a little bit.”

The ex-general eyed him in suspicion. Something about the situation was off, but he couldn’t figure out what. Did the man have some kind of underlying motive? The creeper hybrid had never seemed malicious, and Wilbur could recall his brother mentioning Sam’s offer of a temporary shelter, should he ever need it. He could even vaguely remember the conversation that the other man had had with Ghostbur, of him asking the spirit to let him know if anything went wrong during Tommy’s exile (Ghostbur had agreed, of course, but he had been melting in the rain when it all went to shit, and by the time he had returned, his brother was safe at Techno’s). He couldn’t think of a single reason the other would have to potentially harm Tommy through the guise of building the child a hotel. That didn’t mean it couldn’t happen, though. So Wilbur would keep an eye on him, just in case.

For now, though, his short walk had exhausted him (he had been finding himself more tired lately, though he assumed that had something to do with being brought back from the dead), and he wanted to get back to the castle and grab something from the kitchens before he collapsed.

“Well, I won’t take up anymore of your time, then. I’m sure Tommy will probably have your payment to you soon, he seemed pretty excited for this project, but I’ve gotta get back…” Wilbur debated on whether or not he should let it slip to Sam where he (and by extension, his boys) was staying, but ultimately decided against it, trailing off awkwardly. As nice as the hybrid seemed, he still didn’t fully trust him. “I’ll see you around, man.”

Wilbur turned on his heel, beginning to head back the way he had come, but halted when Sam called out to him. He tensed and looked over his shoulder, letting the hybrid know he had his attention.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” the other started, and Wilbur nodded his head for him to continue. “Do you… know what happened to Tommy in exile?”

“I-”

( _“Wilby, I want to go home.” Tommy had pleaded one night, delirious from lack of sleep. “Please can’t you just take me home?”_

 _And Ghostbur had cooed lowly in his throat, swiping a wispy hand across his boy’s ash covered cheek as Tommy drifted off into a fitful sleep. The spirit was very aware he hadn’t been talking about L’Manberg._ )

“Only to a certain extent.”

“What do you mean?” Sam asked.

Wilbur let out a breath, shoving his fists into the pockets of his worn out coat. “Well, it’s difficult to recall things from Ghostbur’s memory sometimes. They come and go. And I- he wasn’t around for all of it, anyway. So I know a bit, but not all the details.” He gained back some of his defensive posture, then, squaring his shoulders and wondering if Sam thought him as intimidating as much as Wilbur did him. “Why do you ask?”

“Dream spoke to me about it-”

 _Fucking what_.

“-not all of it, but enough to concern me.” Sam said, either ignorant or uncaring of the way the ex-president’s posture had changed, his expression becoming more thunderous. “The thing is, I don’t know how much of it was actually true, or if he was trying to get a rise out of me.”

“So you want to talk to Tommy about it?” Wilbur asked slowly, trying to reign in his anger. He had been doing so well keeping it under wraps, and it would do no good for him to lose his cool over the implication that the masked man had potentially harmed his brother.

“No, actually.” The confession startled the man out of his murderous thoughts, but Sam didn’t seem to notice. “I know Tommy doesn’t trust me enough for that, which is understandable. I’d like for him to be able to, one day, but that’ll take a while, and he needs someone he can talk to sooner rather than later.”

That did make sense. Tommy wasn’t the type to talk about his problems anyway, much less with someone he wasn’t that close to. Wilbur had enough difficulty when they were growing up, with getting his brother to admit when he was hurt and letting him patch up his wounds. At some point the younger had gotten it into his head that he had to be a “big man”, and “big men” didn’t cry, or get hurt, or need help. It had been a process, working through that mindset and assuring Tommy that he could let people help him, that he could trust his big brother to be there for him. The boy was doing better with it for a while, most of the “big man” jokes were just that, jokes, but Wilbur could tell whenever Toms was actually falling back on that mentality. He had been doing it more and more lately.

“You want _me_ to talk to him.” Wilbur guessed. He would be the most likely candidate, him or Tubbo. But Tommy wouldn’t want to burden his best friend, practically his other brother, with his problems. Not that Toms would ever be a burden, but he knew how the younger thought.

Sam nodded, though he seemed hesitant. “He has to talk to someone. The things Dream was telling me weren’t… good, and Tommy’s been acting off. He doesn’t seem like the same kid he was before, y’know?”

Wilbur knew. He could see how tired his brother had looked, lately. How tired all of his boys had looked. Fuck, they were all going to need to have a talk. A longer one than just the frantic apologies whispered through collective breakdowns.

“Yeah,” the man sighed, running a hand through his hair, “I get it. I’ll talk to him, all of them. Thanks,

Sam.”

“This isn’t going to turn out like before, is it?” The question had come across a bit hostile, and by the look in Sam’s eyes, the glint he could just barely see through the shaded lenses of the mask, he could tell it was intentional.

Wilbur looked at him, bewildered, letting his hand drop limply to his side. “Excuse me?”

“You have to understand, Wilbur,” Sam started, tone unnaturally even. “You weren’t exactly in the best frame of mind the last time you were alive, and now you’re back and you _seem_ fine, but you also seemed okay when you all took down Schlatt. And we all know how that turned out.” The ex-president grimaced at the reminder. “I just want to make sure you’ve actually changed. Tommy, Tubbo, and the rest of the kids on this server have been through a lot, and some of them are adults now, but I still need to know that you’re here to help, and not cause any more pain for them.”

“And what would you do if I did?” Wilbur asked, schooling his expression into one he knew to be unsettling. “Throw me in a cell?”

The creeper hybrid stiffened, a hand moving towards the trident strapped to his back. “The prison would be the least of your worries.”

They stared at each other for a moment, Sam seemingly waiting to see what the other man would do. Wilbur couldn’t hold it for any longer, and he began to laugh, a soft, breathless sort of sound. The taller man was looking at him in what Wilbur assumed was surprise or uneasiness, and he willed himself to calm.

“You’re a good guy, Sam,” he said, once he had finished. “I expect you to carry out that threat, should it ever come down to it.” The other was still tense, not taking his hand away from his weapon, and Wilbur took pity on him. “I don’t want to hurt them, I didn’t want to hurt them the first time either. But everything was so confusing near the end, I was so angry and I had that green bastard whispering in my ear the whole time, Technoblade’s penchant for violence wasn’t really helping anything. And I’m not trying to pin the blame on anyone else. That was me, as much I hate what I did, it was all me. But I don’t want to do that again, I don’t want to put any of them through that.”

Sam had settled, during his speech, but he was still confused. “Then why…?”

_Why make idle threats? Why play the bad guy? Why accept a possible death sentence?_

“Because Sam,” Wilbur grinned, “I hadn’t planned on losing my mind the first time around, I’m not planning on this time, either. But I need someone to be ready to deal with me should it happen again. I need to know there will be someone to do what needs to be done to protect my boys.” He knew Eret would watch over them, they had already grown so fond of them, even Ranboo, who had barely begun to be a part of their little family. But he couldn’t ask the Royal to kill him. “Please,” he added, when the other man hesitated.

Sam nodded, posture stiff and not saying a word. Good enough.

“Well, I’ll be seeing you then. Thanks for the advice.” Wilbur waved as he walked off, not bothering to see if the gesture was returned as he trekked further down the Prime Path. He wasn’t all that tired anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m editing this while watching Tommy’s stream :’)
> 
> Update: FUCK
> 
> denial denial denial denial denial denial denial


End file.
